


74: "The Meeting"

by alley_oops, jennandanica



Series: Citadel: Sam Worthington and Ryan Kwanten [74]
Category: Actor RPF, Australian Actor RPF, Citadel (Journalfen RPG), True Blood RPF
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2008-11-03
Updated: 2008-11-03
Packaged: 2018-01-15 14:20:19
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,963
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1307941
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/alley_oops/pseuds/alley_oops, https://archiveofourown.org/users/jennandanica/pseuds/jennandanica
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>Christina Ricci is played by tjournal and Natalie Portman by Jay Linden.</p>
    </blockquote>





	74: "The Meeting"

**Author's Note:**

> Christina Ricci is played by tjournal and Natalie Portman by Jay Linden.

_**Sam, Ryan Kwanten, Natalie Portman and Christina Ricci: the "meeting"** _   
**players only. backdated. takes place a few days after[the boys meet the girls for dinner](http://www.journalfen.net/users/miss_christina/35511.html) and [Ryan makes dessert of Sam](http://www.journalfen.net/users/kwanten/17507.html).**

Somewhere in Greek literature or maybe Shakespeare's plays, there's a metaphor (or whatever) for how insane this whole thing is. It's actually crazy and they're _actors_ for God's sake. Crazy for Hollywood is not earth logic. But it has to be done - for everyone's careers and an unprocreated as of yet baby. So Christina is wearing her smallest dress, her highest heels and enough Slut by Gucci perfume to get pregnant from the male gaze alone. She's flitting around as "hostess", buzzing from group to group, waiter to bartender to manager to door man, who's pretending to glare at the paps while simultaneously letting them get closer. She checks her watch a few dozen times, an eye on the door waiting for Sam to arrive.

After an initial kiss-kiss greeting with Natalie, Christina has stayed far far away. Her master plan is to wait until Sam and Natalie start talking and then retreat to the "private lounge" to ingest every drop of whiskey in America.

Sam takes a deep breath, eyeing the door to the restaurant where Christina's holding her party and the security standing outside. "Fuck," he exhales softly, looking over at Ryan. "I feel like I usually do right before a new shoot." Strangely unsettled for him, with a nervousness in his belly that's not fucking going away.

Ryan's a moment behind in looking away from the door and meeting Sam's eyes. He hasn't gone to one of these things in years, and even then he was pretty much anonymous. He can understand why Sam's jumpy. "The hardest part's behind you," he murmurs, "because you know she's going to help you break the ice and you know it's going to go well. Plus, you look really fucking hot." Sam's wearing his idea of a suit - white dress shirt and an open black suit jacket over jeans and boots - and the look really works for Ryan.

"Thanks. So do you," Sam says with a smile, barely catching himself before he touches Ryan. Christ. That's what they get for the last couple of weeks spent in each other's pockets. "Um. We should probably head in."

"Yeah, all right." But Ryan has to take a deep breath himself before he pushes open the door. Photographers' flashes pop the second Sam gets out of the car behind him - someone got the message, good - and he steps up and gives their names to the man working the entrance. He's ridiculously nervous now, cold sweat beneath his suit as he heads inside.

The moment they're in, Sam's scoping out the bar. "You want a beer?" he asks Ryan over his shoulder, heading straight for it. "Or something stronger?" Sure, he's here to meet Natalie, but making a direct beeline would look downright suspicious. This way, it looks like he's going with his usual priorities.

"Scotch," Ryan answers, right behind him. Christ, how do people go to these things regularly? Maybe they eventually get inured to the hyper-aware preening atmosphere, one eye always on the door. Ryan can't imagine ever being used to this, though.

"Two scotches," Sam tells the bartender when he gets his attention. He hands the first to Ryan and with his own glass in hand, moves them over to the side of the bar so they're not in the way. "You don't look too impressed," he teases his lover.

"I feel like I have a target painted on my back," Ryan admits, knocking back a gulp and wincing against the quick burn. He's pretty sure all the blood is rushing to his face, what a bonus. "When's the karaoke start?"

Sam laughs. "You'll get used to it," he says, not entirely sure that's true. "You see the girls?" he asks, lowering his voice.

Ryan looks around, trying not to _look_ like he's doing so. "Natalie's behind you," he says after a moment, "center of the room, yellow dress. Looks gorgeous. Christina... God, these people are tall." He frowns in frustration, then shakes his head. "Can't see her."

Sam shifts so he's standing more beside Ryan than in front of him, casually scanning the room as he takes a sip of his drink. And there's Natalie. God. She does look gorgeous. "Think I should wait until the asshole she's talking to gives up? Or go in and rescue her?"

"If that asshole gives up, I'm sure there'll just be another one," Ryan says, starting a mental count of faces he recognizes. "Go, work your magic." He frowns again, jokingly this time. "But not _that_ magic."

Sam grins. "Yes, sir," he murmurs, eyes twinkling as he touches, just barely, Ryan's sleeve and the leather bracelet beneath it. "I'll catch you later," he says casually, a little louder, leaving Ryan at the bar and slowly making his way over to where Natalie's standing, still talking to the same guy.

Natalie is pretty sure she's never been this tense, and this bored, at the same time before. It's like waiting to go onstage, but instead of getting to prepare in your dressing room, you're out at the concession stand, talking to someone who thinks they're fascinating.

She'd noticed when Sam and Ryan came in--hard to miss those two--and she lost track of Christina awhile ago. Hazard of both of them being short. She nods at the guy talking to her, giving him her best movie star smile, and hoping like hell there isn't going to be a test on this material.

Watching Natalie, Sam moves in closer and closer, the guy starting to notice him. _Move on, mate, you've had your fucking chance and you're boring the lady to death._

At first, Natalie's confused when the guy who's talking to her (honestly, it can't be called a conversation when she's not being allowed to participate in it because it might end the litany of 'I'm so awesome' that's coming from him) starts losing his train of thought and repeating himself. Then she catches Sam out of the corner of her eye, and it makes a lot more sense. Sam does have a certain amount of presence, after all. Plus size.

Closing in until the guy has to acknowledge him, Sam nods and gives him a smile. "Sorry to interrupt, mate, but I really need to talk to Natalie about something," he says, taking her elbow before the guy can say anything and leading her over in front of a trio of women who were eyeing him a minute ago. "I hope you don't mind me taking liberties, but you looked like you needed rescuing," he says, just loudly enough for them to hear. Witnesses are good.

Christina spies the contact and whirls around, completely ignoring the drunk producer enjoying the top deck view of her cleavage. She clatters to the lounge, not looking back. It's clearly better that way.

"No apologies necessary--I appreciate the rescue," Natalie assures him, smiling warmly up at Sam. "It's Sam, right?" It is supposed to be an introduction, after all.

"Yeah. Sam Worthington," he says with a smile. "I'd shake your hand but then bozo over there'd know we don't know each other."

"So let's not spoil the fiction," Natalie says, smile shifting into a grin.

Grinning back, Sam nods. "Works for me." God, she's fucking beautiful. "Congratulations on your Oscar win. You were brilliant."

"Thank you," Natalie says, taking the last sip of her drink. "I'm still trying to find somewhere to put it where it doesn't freak me out when I turn around and see it," she admits.

Sam laughs. "Russell Crowe keeps his in a chicken coop on his ranch back home. He told me it inspires his hens to lay bigger eggs." He nods towards Natalie's drink. "Can I get you another?"

Natalie laughs. "Please," she says, handing over her glass. "I wonder if I put it in my closet if it would inspire my shoes to multiply. It's worth thinking about!"

"Definitely," Sam agrees with a chuckle. He nods towards the bar. "Want to come with me? Just so someone doesn't get it in their mind you're free again?"

"Good idea," Natalie says, slipping her arm around his. She isn't even entirely sure what it was she'd been drinking--it was big, it was pink, and it gave her something to do with her hands, since apparently, at this party, hiding away in a bathroom with a locked door and Christina wasn't in the cards.

Ryan spots them heading back his way and comes to full alert -- like he hasn't been covertly staring at them this entire time. "Yeah, another scotch, please," he mumbles to the bartender, thinking this is it, his last one. Maybe Christina's got a good bottle of wine they can hit in the corner, or something. Come to that, cheap wine would do just as well.

"You're still at the bar?" Sam says, coming up beside Ryan. "I thought you were gonna go check out that girl in the red dress?" He grins at Natalie. "This is my mate, Ryan Kwanten. Ryan, Natalie Portman." His grin turned to the bartender. "Another one of these, please," he says, handing the glass over and leaving it up to the professional to figure out what the hell she was drinking.

"Hi Ryan, pleased to meet you," Natalie says. "Your friend Sam rescued me from a guy who thought that he was _terribly_ interesting. If the drinks weren't free tonight, I'd be buying Sam one," she says.

"H-- hi. It's nice to meet you," Ryan stammers, like it really is the first time he's met her. God, he feels like an idiot. "Yeah, Sam's a good guy." He goes to shake her hand, realizes his own hand is wet with condensation - who puts ice in good single-malt scotch? - and wipes his fingers off on his trousers before trying again.

Natalie just smiles, and doesn't laugh, shaking Ryan's hand on the second attempt. "Good to know," she says, taking her drink when the bartender hands it over and taking a long sip. It's frozen, and it's pink, and there's alcohol in there somewhere. It'll do.

"Ryan's a songwriter," Sam says. "He wrote that song by Aidan Scott. Wide Open?" Trusting she'll know it. "He's not used to these kind of parties though."

"Wait... yeah, I know that song," she says, nodding a few times and grinning. "I'm not going to sing it to prove it though. Me and singing... just... no. I don't think anyone's used to these kind of parties," Natalie admits. "You just get better at faking it." Oh, understatement, especially tonight.

"That's right, and part of the way you get better is by mingling," Sam says, nudging Ryan's shoulder. "Go find the girl in the red dress." He grins at his lover, offering his arm to Natalie again. "We're gonna go seek out a quiet corner where Natalie's Mr. Yappy won't find her."

Somewhere in this crowd of tall people is Christina, displaying amazing cleavage, and probably bossing people around. Natalie won't be at all surprised if this night ends with Ryan and Christina, drunk in a corner, giggling and telling stories about Natalie and Sam. Probably involving code names. She shudders to think.

"Nice to meet you, Ryan," Natalie says, tucking in a little bit closer to Sam--not _too_ close, but close enough for a girl who's talking to a nice guy and trying to discourage anyone else to come up and talk to them. She hopes. "Maybe I'll see you around?"

"Yeah, sounds good," Ryan says, giving her a smile. He blows out a breath and steps away from the bar, slipping into the crowd. _Red dress, red dress._ There are probably a bunch of women here tonight wearing red. Finding one of them is as good a time-filler as any.

"So, what are you working on now?" Sam asks. Strangely enough, it's not something they'd gotten into the other night.

"I've got a couple of movies coming out right now, so I'm on hold production wise until the promotions for them are done," she says. "It's nice to have a bit of a break," Natalie admits. "Although honestly, some days I'd rather be doing a sixteen hour shoot in the rain than sitting through another set of interviews asking me exactly the same questions for the fortieth time in a row."

Sam nods. "That always drives me crazy," he says. "It's amazing how much of a difference it makes when you get that one reporter who's really thought about their questions and done their research and actually has something to _ask._ "

"You'd think they'd learn that," Natalie says. "They get a lot more answers out of someone who isn't bored to death, answering the same questions. But, I still get questions about shaving my head for 'V'," she says, sighing loudly.

"Really?" Sam laughs. "Assholes," he murmurs, shaking his head. "So at the risk of being as bad, because I haven't read _all_ your interviews, do you feel like there's more pressure now? You know, like everyone's waiting to see what you do next?"

"Oh, yeah," Natalie admits. "Big time. Do you know that they've actually done statistics and studies on the way that winning the Oscar affects the future career of an actress? And the stats say not good. So, no pressure," she says, rolling her eyes. "My plan is to just keep going, keep choosing roles the way I've always chosen roles, cross my fingers and hope for the best."

Sam nods. "That sounds like a good idea," he says, taking a sip of his scotch. "It's so hard to tell what'll do well anyway. I know lots of people say they know but I think they're full of shit. They only say that _after_ all the kudos start rolling in. You don't choose to be in a shitty movie unless you're really hurting for money so the rest of the time you're picking a role for the way it speaks to you, or who you'll get a chance to work with, or because the whole project is something you can't imagine not being a part of, no matter how small your role is."

"Exactly. Particularly once you're in a position to be a lot more particular," Natalie agrees. "We've all got movies we wish we could remove from our bios, but I don't think anyone goes in expecting disaster. I wouldn't have sold three movies' worth of my life to Lucas if I'd known what would happen, but I'm on the other side of it now."

"And of course you have to keep in mind that once you've been part of a big blockbuster or franchise or you've won an Oscar, everyone comes gunning for you," Sam says. "That's the thing I don't get about America. How much this country likes to build up people just to tear them down, and that's not an 'Australia does things better' comment, because I don't necessarily think we do, it's just that it's so glaringly obvious here."

"This would be why I've spent the better part of five years living in the UK," Natalie says wryly. "Even though I've never stopped considering New York home, it's very strange being back," she says. "And that's just New York. LA would be worse."

"Yeah, it is," Sam confirms, grinning. "I just bought a house there."

"Ooh," Natalie says, laughing at that. "Do I congratulate you, or tell you I'm sorry?" she teases. The laughter got a bit of attention, and she can see a couple of people whispering off to the side. That is what they're there for, after all... that and to genuinely get to know each other better. "Sorry--as you probably guessed by the part where I live mostly in New York and London, I don't spend a lot of time there."

"Yeah." Sam nods. "It's okay. You can still congratulate me. It's a gorgeous place. 1920's beach house in Malibu, right on the water. It's the first big purchase I've ever made. First place of my own really, actually."

"That sounds beautiful," Natalie says. "Maybe I'd like LA more if I spent more time at the ocean, and less time on industry nonsense," she adds. "Plus, you're still up on me--I don't technically own any property." Yet.

"No?" Sam smiles. "So, what do you do with your money, if you don't mind me asking?"

"I have very highly paid accountants who I pay highly to make sure that it's there when I need it... for whatever it is I happen to need it for," Natalie says. "I buy a ridiculous amount of shoes. I support a number of charities and non-profit groups... did I mention the shoes?" she repeats, grinning at him. "I'm still waiting to find that place and that time where I want to settle and stay."

"And what about people? Are you seeing anyone?" Sam asks, hating the question at the same time as he knows it's absolutely necessary to the fiction they're weaving. Conscious of the crowd around them, actively eavesdropping on their conversation.

There are limits to what Natalie's going to outright say, even when the fiction, the lie, is the point of this entire exercise. "Why?" she asks, voice low as she peeks up at him, smiling around the rim of her glass, then taking a sip. "Making conversation, or curious?"

"Curious," Sam admits, eyes only for Natalie even as he's aware of his lover, somewhere in the room, watching them. Fuck. "I'm headed to London tomorrow but I was hoping you might give your number, if I'm not stepping on anyone's toes. Maybe I could take you out for dinner the next time I'm in New York?"

Natalie's smile gets a little wider. She takes one more sip of her drink, then extends her hand toward him. "Give me your phone," she says softly.

Sam pulls his phone from his back pocket and hands it over.

"Thank you," she says. She takes the phone, hands him her drink to hold, and turns the phone over in her hand. It takes less than a minute for her to navigate his address book and add her phone and email addresses. Not that he doesn't already have access to that information. This isn't for Sam. It's for whoever's pretending they're not watching.

Such as... a certain stunner in a red dress. Ryan has his arm lightly around her waist, but she only has eyes for the drama unfolding between Sam and Natalie. "Oh my god, can you believe it?" she hisses, while Ryan manages to look suave and unconcerned.

"That's great," Sam says, grinning widely when she hands the phone back. "Thanks. What kind of food do you like?"

"Are you going to change your mind if I tell you I'm a vegetarian?" Natalie asks, grinning right back at him. For Gods sake, she can hear the whispers. "I am, but I like Italian, and most places have vegetarian options these days."

"Italian it is," Sam says. "And I'm not going to change my mind. Are you gonna change yours if I say my favourite meal is a steak with all the fixings?" Again playing to their audience since this is ground they've already covered.

Natalie shakes her head, drink reclaimed. "Not unless you try to feed it to me," she says. "Don't make fun of my salad, and I won't moo when you cut into your steak. Although, there are times when a quick teeth brushing might be advisable," she adds, looking a little wicked. She hopes that Christina's approving of the attention their fictional 'getting to know you' is attracting, and not throwing darts at her picture in the back somewhere.

Sam grins. "I'll keep that in mind," he says. "Besides, I don't have anything against salad. It's just not a complete meal to me."

"To be fair, there's a substantial size difference between you and me," Natalie says. "I imagine that it takes a slightly different calorie and protein level to keep you going versus myself."

Sam takes a look at the heels Natalie's wearing. Christ. He doesn't think he's ever seen her in flats and it suddenly hits home _just_ how fucking tiny she is. "I'm going to be a good boy like my mum taught me and keep all my perverted thoughts to myself," he murmurs over his scotch, eyes crinkling at the corners.

When tonight is over, and Natalie goes home, she's going to fuck Christina nine kinds of stupid. It's not even about Sam, although he's hot and funny and clearly wicked (no wonder Ryan smiles and blushes all the time). It's the tease of it all. It's kind of frustrating, and it's kind of fun, and all in all it's leaving Natalie with energy that's all going to get directed back into making Christina scream.

"Oh really?" Natalie murmurs, eyes sparkling as she sways in a little closer. "Where's the fun in that?"

Sam grins. "Maybe in you actually letting me take you out to dinner instead of slapping me across the face and leaving me standing here with my scotch."

"You might be surprised," Natalie shoots back, grinning too. "Still, I'm patient. I'll wait for dinner."

And that only fires up his imagination even more, Sam having to remind himself that it's all just a beautiful fiction. "So, do you have family here in New York?" he asks with a smile, very, very obviously changing the subject.

It's not a subtle shift at all, and that's okay. It doesn't need to be. "Uh huh," Natalie says, sipping at her drink again. "And friends. A lot of the people I spend a lot of time with are either here or London."

Sam nods. "Most of my mates are back home in Australia," he says. "Family too, although I'm an only so it's just my mum and dad. Except Ryan. He's my housemate."

"I'm an only too," Natalie says, smiling at him. "There's something we have in common. Ryan's the one from the bar, right? The boy you just introduced me to?" Natalie hasn't looked for Ryan in awhile, and she's despaired of finding Christina in this crowd. Which might, for the moment, be a good thing, since the dress Christina's wearing makes her breasts look amazing... and very, very distracting.

"Yeah." Sam nods. "My new place isn't huge but after crashing in hotels and with my mates all the time, it felt like I was rolling around in it. This way it's a little less empty."

"I definitely understand that," Natalie says. "It's probably part of the reason I haven't bought a place of my own yet." The other reason being that Christina already owned or rented property, and Natalie just moved herself on in....

"Does that mean you have a roommate too, or are you still living with your family?" Sam asks.

"Definitely not living with my family," Natalie says. "Not since I went to university. Do you know Christina Ricci? She's hosting the party," Natalie says.

"I know her to see her but I haven't actually had the pleasure of meeting her yet," Sam says, finishing his scotch and setting his glass aside for now. "You guys are housemates? Or roommates, I guess you call it here?"

"When we're in the same city," Natalie says, nodding. "Saves on costs, and keeps from the rattling around alone thing," she adds.

"That's great," Sam says, smiling. "And good you're both actors. I don't think anyone who works a regular 9 to 5 job could stand living with us for long."

"Probably not," Natalie agrees. "I take it that Ryan's job isn't 9 to 5 either, if he can stand you?" Possibly dangerous territory, and yet... maybe not. Establishing the roommate factor probably can't hurt.

"No, it's not. He's a songwriter. He likes to write at night and then he gets up at the ass-crack of dawn to do yoga on the fucking deck." He shakes his head and laughs. "I tend to sleep through that part but then he wakes me up to go surfing."

"I'm with him on the yoga, but I am NOT a morning person," Natalie says, shuddering dramatically. "Your roommate is a crazy person, Sam... early mornings are for coffee, denial, and cursing whoever made the filming schedule start at that time." She tilts her head and looks thoughtful. "I don't know if mornings are good for surfing or not--I've never really done that."

"Yeah?" Sam grins. "I'd be happy to teach you - sometime when you're out in L.A. It's brilliant. I think you'd love it."

"I'm not going to get eaten by a shark?" Natalie asks. "I'm not very big--I don't want them to mistake me for a seal."

Sam laughs. "We'll get you a really brightly-coloured wetsuit," he promises. "Lots of yellow or red."

"Good," Natalie says. "One of my friends always teases me that I have to watch out for predators, because vegans and vegetarians taste better," she says. Ever so innocently.

"Oh, see, now you're just teasing," Sam murmurs, leaning in closer. "Trying to get me to say I'd like to find out for myself."

Natalie's smile shifts from innocent to wicked. "Is it working?" If this isn't good enough to get fueling the rumor mill, then Natalie's at a loss, because honestly. They're throwing some A material out there for their "audience".

"Yeah, it is," Sam nods, and god knows it's not a lie, because if it weren't for their respective lovers and this all just being a fiction, he'd have Natalie in a backroom right now, dress up around her thighs and his mouth between them.

"Good," Natalie says, still looking wicked-innocent. "All the more likely I won't end up just a number collected in your phone, if I'm memorable."

It's been hours. _Hours_. Or... maybe it just seems that way. Whichever, Ryan figures it's time to go: he and Sam agreed that at a certain point Ryan's supposed to drag him out of here, keep up the pretense and all that and stop Sam and Natalie from actually going home together. Because it looks like things are going just swimmingly.

And he's a little tired of being subtly groped by Sarah/Sasha/whoever it is in her red dress. Does that actually work for some men? He wonders. Hell, who is Ryan kidding? It would probably work for him if she were taller and had a penis. And lost the dress. "Yeah, I've got to go," he tells her now, taking her hand off his ass, "but it was really good meeting you." He turns away before she can protest, slipping into the crowd and heading straight for Sam and Natalie, who have definitely caught and held their audience's attention.

"Hey, sorry to interrupt," he says, giving Natalie an apologetic smile. "Sam, you've got that early flight tomorrow." And Ryan is totally imagining the sparking electricity between the pair of them, the wall of pheromones he just crashed through. Right.

Natalie smiles back at Ryan before she turns back to Sam, still smiling, but looking regretful too. At least she hopes so--she's got an Academy-freaking-award, so she'd better be able to pull that off. "Duty calls?" she says, sighing lightly. "It's okay--I get it," she says. "Besides, Ryan's got yoga at the ass-crack of dawn... can't keep him up too late," she teases, repeating Sam's phrasing from earlier.

"I'm. Yeah. I'm very bendy," Ryan says randomly, wondering why the hell they were talking about him at all. Did they not in fact get the point of this little exercise? "Great party, though. Thanks, for... letting us in." Someone throw him a rope here, please. To either save himself or hang himself, he's not quite sure which.

Sam laughs. "I'll call you," he says, taking her hand and pressing his mouth to it. "From London. Come back just to take you for Italian." It's a promise and he always keeps his promises.

"I'll look forward to it," Natalie says, eyes only on Sam now, enjoying the bit of chivalry. It looks good, and makes her smile.

If Natalie enjoys all the hand-kissing, it makes Ryan's skin crawl. God, he's got to get his head in the game. "I'll get the car," he mutters, and turns away to give them a moment, heading out of the party.

Sam grins. "Me too. I'd better get going though. I can never sleep on flights and if I don't get some rest now, I'll be a mess when I reach London." He gives her hand a final squeeze. "Enjoy the rest of your evening and tell Christina thanks for us. I'm sorry we didn't get the chance to meet her."

"I'll tell her," Natalie promises. That's assuming she can find Christina in all this crowd. It's no surprise to Natalie that her girlfriend can really throw a party. "It's been fun, Sam. I hope I hear from you soon."

"You will," Sam assures her, unable to stop grinning, so fucking glad they've managed to pull this off, _and_ that it was fun. "Bye," he gives her a small wave and another grin over his shoulder before he follows after Ryan.

Natalie smiles back and waves the tips of her fingers at him, not being at all subtle (on purpose, of course) as she checks out his ass on the way out. Once he's gone and out the door, she turns and heads straight for the bar.

She needs to find Christina. And before she does that? She definitely needs a drink.  



End file.
